


His Sadder but Wiser Girl

by CandyDani



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bible School really messed with him, Christianity am I right?, Discord: Dumbledore's Armada, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, My First Smut, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Smut, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29544144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyDani/pseuds/CandyDani
Summary: The Gaunt Family has a history of obsession, a history he thought himself above.---WINNER OF OVERALL FAVORITE OF THE MUSIC MAGIC DUMBLEDORE'S ARMADA FLASH FIC COMPETITION.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle
Comments: 29
Kudos: 137
Collections: Music: A Magic Beyond All We Do Here





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [sunflower_swan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_swan/pseuds/sunflower_swan) in the [MusicMagic](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/MusicMagic) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  The Music Man
> 
> I took my inspiration from the song, "The Sadder but Wiser Girl" I hope you enjoy!

_October 20, 1944_

  
The House of Gaunt were known for two things, being unstable due to years of inbreeding, and obsession. Whether it was obsession with purity, money, or love. The latter being his mother’s case in extremes, falling so pathetically for his muggle father that she did not see her own misdeeds of drugging the man. Merope’s obsession led her to continue to drug him, raping him, until she bared a child.

Foolish to think that when the potion worn off that her victim would stay, as if the product of his suffering would elicit some paternal feelings. It drove her to madness when he left, or perhaps she was already mad. He would never know.

With her death, she not only abandoned her son to the muggle world, but to his own roots. He wasn’t some narcissist to claim that he was perfect, he knew of his flaws, though he dared not to show such things to his peers. He was dancing a very thin tightrope, and he battled with it every night. Cursing his mother’s name as he fought desperately to regain control.

Obsession. It was a word he never understood. He craved power, he was hungry for respect, he would kill to get it. He was in control. Tom knew not of such a thing that could drive him over that tightrope, plunging into insanity.

_Until her._

Tom despised the witches that roamed these schools, those doe-eyed glances, the innocent façade they portrayed. It reminded him too much of the teacher at his local Sunday School, preaching of sins and remaining clean.

_For God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous._

These witches were the same, waving their purity and family names in hopes of securing a husband. They bat their painted lashes at him, attempting to entice him into trading up his independence for a peak what was beneath their skirts.

But she was different. He knew not of where she came from, only that she marched through the halls with a confidence that other women would march with down the aisle. It was invigorating. She did not pretend ignorance, instead choosing to flaunt her knowledge in the classroom, her hand in the air before he could place down his quill.

She cared not for her own virtue, nor for the others who may take a peep of her skin. Of her purity. He held restraint not to ogle as she unbuttoned the top of her uniform, complaining of the heat. As flushed as she may have been, he was much hotter under the collar.

The words that left her mouth would turn a sailor’s tongue into knots. He adored seeing her frustrated, hiding behind the bookshelves to watch as she poured over her work. Tom didn’t care what she was looking for, or why it riled her up, but the dark whispers that tainted her breath sent shivers down his spine.

Luckily for them, his followers didn’t share the attraction to her, caught up in the vain witches around them. The ones that liked to portray themselves as goddesses, golden in looks, rotten in personality. Not his witch, he couldn’t help but grin when she entered a room, radiating a power that made his mouth water.

* * *

_October 24th, 1944_

  
“Riddle?”

Tom paused in his readings to look up at one of his knights. Abraxas Malfoy, he was definitely one of the more pathetic ones, but useful for his father’s connections. Raising a dark brow, he waited for him to continue.

“Granger, it’s a muggle name. I asked father to look into the records, and he’s found no such records of any magical family related to her.”

He looked so proud of himself, the sneer clear as day. He looked down on Ms. Granger, fancied himself to have saved his lord from making a mistake. As if him chasing after such a powerful witch would be a mistake. As if he made any mistakes.

As the silence grew, he observed the little ticks on Malfoy’s face, giving away the uncertainty. Letting him squirm a bit longer, he waited till a bead of sweat came down his forehead for him to speak.

“I don’t believe I told you to do that, Malfoy. I don’t like it when my chess pieces move on their own.”

He watched the pureblood swallow, his adams apple bobbing in his throat with a slight tremble.

“I-I just thought.”

Tom placed the book he was once engrossed in to the side, “You thought what? That this would deter me from pursuing Ms. Granger? That I would be filthening myself?”

“I-I wouldn’t dare presume-“

“But you did.” His tone was cold, his eyes now glaring daggers into him, “My affairs with Ms. Granger are none of yours or the other knight’s business. Is that understood?”

“Yes..”

“Yes what?”

“Y-Yes, my lord..”

* * *

_October 31st, 1944_

  
She noticed; he wasn’t exactly subtle. Unlike the blushing dolls that surrounded the school, she was the one who threw the first stone. Damning him to hell the moment he was against the stone wall, her vine wand stabbing into his throat, her hot breath brushing his skin as she whispered furiously.

It was not one of his proudest moments. Being so caught off guard. Though he supposed he should have felt more ashamed by the tent in his trousers. Or how his heart began to beat rapidly in his chest as the realization entered her gaze. He was basically panting beneath her touch. She did not shy away or stutter any apology. Instead, Ms. Granger gave him the sweetest smile before she completely drenched him in sin.

“W-Wait!”

His uniform was halfway undone, his perfectly coiffed hair mussed up from her fingers. She had stopped at the sound of his voice, her hands frozen in their place. Tom laid there on the bed in shock, not entirely sure if that even was his voice. He didn’t stammer like that, he _never_ stammered.

Attempting to retain a cool head, he forced himself to meet her eyes, “I feel you should know, this is my first time.” That was rare for his age, most of his housemates already sowing their wild oats. But he had no interest in such things, not until her. He didn’t know why, but he felt she should know. She was it for him.

She gave no verbal response, instead she leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his lips. With that, everything else melted away, leaving only her flesh against his.

He tried to remember the bible verses he learned when he was young, a holy beacon to guide him from the darkness he was now immersed in. But the only light he could see now was the candle-light that glowed from her skin as she sat above him, riding him to completion. With every turn of her hips, he was further from heaven.

Flesh interrupted by old scars and freckles, wild curls unleashed down her back, it was all part of her design. The creation that Lucifer himself must have made to lead him to temptation. She was a female Hades, and he had bitten into the fruit, the juices dripped down his chin as she screamed out his name.

He wanted to consume her, for her to consume him. He wanted to suffocate, drained of every drop of his essence. Whatever pleased her. Whatever would make her _stay_. That clawing in his chest refused to cease, his heart felt like someone was gripping it within their hands. Her hands. She was digging her nails in, causing the blood to flow deeper and lower down, before he rolled them over so he was on top.

He had wondered if she was his punishment or blessing. As she slept soundly against his pillows, he allowed himself to take in every inch of her. She was exquisite. His skin still sung from her touches, never the same again. _He_ would never be the same.

Tom took her arm, tracing his fingers over the scar that had appeared after she had fallen asleep. He followed the angry red letters, spelling it out in his head. He didn’t know where she was from, or why she was here. She was still a mystery to him. Though he had begun to see through the cracks of her mask when she was alone, seeming so isolated from the world. Even now, as she dreamed, there was pain clearly etched in her skin. It was _marvelous._

Cradling her wrist to his lips, he ran his tongue along the jagged skin. He wanted to know how she had suffered, what unworthy soul had the gall to touch something so divine. He would put their severed head on a pike before her, an apple in their mouth like a finely roasted pig. No one would dare to harm what was his. Obsession had taken another of the Gaunt line, the tightrope lost in the darkness of his mind. With a predatory grin, he whispered something into her ear. She did not stir, peacefully asleep within his possessive embrace.

_“My wise girl."  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of wine has got me in the smutty mood, so let's do what everyone wants and give this ONE MORE CHAPTER!

The first thought she had that morning was that she had never felt so properly fucked. The second was that the one she fucked was Lord Voldemort. He may be a teenager now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t already becoming him. Her skin felt like it was tingling, she was disgusted with herself, and the betrayal of her own body.

Taking the arm from around her, she carefully slid it from her hips, arching herself out of the bed. She ignored the ache in her lower body as she carefully padded over to the bathroom. She needed a hot shower, and then she could properly think.

As the steam filled the room, she took a glance at her reflection in the fogging mirror. Her neck was littered with love bites, decorating her skin in an almost artful manner. Of course, he had to do to make it so annoyingly neat, he was a perfectionist. Sighing, she stepped into the spray of the water, closing her eyes in bliss as her muscles relaxed.

As she pulled the conditioner through her curls, she let herself drown in the scent of sandalwood that seemed to fill the room. Everything smelled like him. Her skin still sang from his where his lips caressed. Shuddering, she dipped her hair back in the water, trying to rinse the thoughts away.

She needed to come up with a plan. A new one, considering the old one was null. She wasn’t supposed to be noticed by him. That was obviously an oversight, since her random appearance would have already piqued his interest. She couldn’t understand why he was so drawn to her, at least, not in _that_ way.

The sight of him pinned against the corridor wall flooded her mind, his pupils were blown, his throat bobbing nervously as she looked down. The future dark lord was sporting a very obvious erection, his loose trousers not offering any assistance. It was because of her. She did that to him.

That was when the plan changed. She was infuriatingly attracted to him, and the smugness of causing him to be in such a vulnerable position, it did something to her. Merlin, he did a _lot_ to her. Opening her eyes, she let out a shaking breath, her hands running over her soapy skin. She could still feel his possessive grip on her hips. He definitely didn’t fuck like a virgin. 

Licking her lips, she took a glance at the door, the one barrier between her and him. He was probably still sleeping. She had some time to think. Plan what she was going to do. At least until the water turned cold.

Once she stepped out, towel around her chest, she was surprised to see him awake. Tom sat on the bed, the sheets covering his lap, his eyes bearing down on her with an unreadable emotion. Shivering as cold air brushed her bare shoulders, she decided to act like nothing was wrong and proceed to get dressed as she had planned.

Making her way to the couch where her bra rested, she heard him speak, “What do you think you’re doing?” She responded by lifting the bra for him to see, feeling her lips quirk up as his cheeks seemed to be a bit flushed. Coming over to his side, she reached for the shirt that hung from the bedpost. It was his, but she couldn’t find hers, so it would have to do.

His eyes were burning into her, setting her skin on fire as it flicked over every exposed piece. As she let the towel drop, she watched his expression change, the shock clear on his face. Knowing he wouldn’t appreciate her laughing at him, she pressed her lips in a tight line. Before she could even slip it on, her bra was snatched from her hands.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, watching with amusement as he tossed it across the room. The next thing that came from her was a squeak as she was yanked back onto the bed, the sheets tumbling around them as they rolled.

“Now,” He almost purred, looking down at her with darkened eyes, “Who said you could leave?” Hermione let out a hesitant laugh, her body shuddering beneath him. All thoughts of Voldemort were wiped from her mind, the only thing being left, was Tom Riddle. Tom arched above her, staring down at her with that charming smirk.

“Who said I couldn’t?” She challenged him, her leg sliding up to graze against his groin. His breath halted for a moment, his grip on her wrists tightening. Her pulse quickened as he leaned down closer to her, their lips brushing, “I did. You’re mine.” She went to protest, but was silenced by his soft lips.

One hand slid down her arm, fingertips grazing her sensitive skin, before coming to a pause above her breast. Feeling his hesitation, she gave a moan against his lips, pushing her chest up against his hand. That was all he needed, groping at her body greedily like she was a shiny prize.

The things he whispered against her skin was the sweetest filth, “I’m going to make every inch of your body mine, so every man knows. They won’t ever know your taste, or hear your heavenly voice. All mine to have, to devour, to fuck.” She let out a gasp as he ran his tongue over her throat, dragging it over the skin lazily before nipping with his teeth.

His long fingers had parted her lower lips, slipping into her wet heat. Her eyes closed in pure bliss, unable to focus on anything besides his mouth and the fingers pumping into her. As he curled his fingers inside, she let out a cry, feeling herself getting closer over the edge. Just a bit more. She needed more.

“Look at me,” He commanded, his hot breath against her ear, “I want to see your eyes when you come undone around my fingers.” She obeyed, forcing herself to hold eye contact with him, her breath hitching as she saw how intense the darkness of his were. He looked like a man possessed. She had no time to think however, his fingers curling one last time against that spot and she was gone.

As she squeezed around him, she saw the pleased grin that formed on his lips, it seemed almost predatory. He let her ride it out before he slid his hand up, licking his fingers as if he coated them in pure sugar. Shuddering, she finally let her eyes flutter shut, breathing out heavily.

She listened to the sound of his pleased hums as he cleaned off his fingers, the orgasm already wearing off and leaving her wanting more. He seemed to want the same, as he began pushing her legs up so he could position himself between them.

Shooting him a sweet smile, she teased, “Not done yet, Mr. Riddle?” He raised a brow at that, pushing the head of his cock in, “Not until I coat your entire body with my seed, I’m not.” Her eyes widened at his statement, something niggling in the back of her head. She had forgotten something, but what was it?

Tom pushed himself completely into her, groaning deeply as her warmth welcomed him, “Perfect. So perfect.” He gave her a moment to adjust before he took complete control, thrusting roughly against her hips. He watched her head throw back against the pillows, her wet curls splayed out against the pillows.

She threw her hips back against his thrusts, causing him to hit deeper and deeper inside her. He was practically growling now, the grip on her waist tightening enough to leave bruises. It didn’t take long until he spilled himself inside of her, moaning her name loudly.

If she was thinking straight, she would have wondered if the head dorms were silencioed. But her brains were unfortunately somewhere else as she laid in a blissful daze. Tom seemed to be the same, his eyes beginning to droop heavily as he shifted them so they were both on their sides. He pressed his lips against her shoulder, whispering something quietly against it. She was drifting off, unable to discern what he was saying. His hands caressed over her stomach, a satisfied smile splayed on his lips.  
  



End file.
